


Picking Up The Pieces

by Elissa_Alenko



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Drinking, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elissa_Alenko/pseuds/Elissa_Alenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three years since Shepard went down with the Normandy, and a lot has changed between Kaidan and Gemma. Even after all that was said, on Horizon, on Mars, in the hospital, they have agreed to start over and try and make sense of their feelings for one another, but taking things slowly isn't working so well. After their date on the Presidium, Kaidan feels compelled to go see her, and things get more than a little heated.</p><p>Angst, smut, the teensiest bit of fluff. All that we love about Shenko and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Up The Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is EVENTUALLY going to be a part of a much longer story, though I have no idea when any of that will be ready. This was originally posted as part of Shenko Angst Tuesday on Tumblr, but I figured y'all might appreciate it a bit more. I'd really really love some constructive criticism!

        Despite what he had said on the Presidium earlier, keeping his hands off of her was incredibly difficult. Kaidan knew that rushing back into how things had been before could ruin everything, and that the war had to be her priority right now, but he couldn't stand things being in limbo the way they had been since he had rejoined her crew.

       So he asked her out to lunch, to talk, to figure out where they stood, to see if there was maybe some way they could make things work despite all that had happened between them. He almost expected her to say no- after all, he had been so cruel to her on Horizon, and ever since he had seemed to doubt her at every corner, even though she always came through. And there was the young Lieutenant, Vega, with whom she seemed to have this easygoing, playful friendship that bordered on the flirtatious, and knowing her fixation on muscles, he could hardly compete.

       But she took him back. And he was amazed, and relieved, and... licentious. God, it had been three years. Three _years_.

        He had gotten close, once, with a doctor some friends had set him up with. They had gone out for drinks a few times, but before it went beyond that he had been deployed to Horizon. Though they had planned to get together again upon his return, the knowledge that Shepard was alive kept him from going through with it. Despite how furious he was about her working with Cerberus and all the unanswered questions he had, even dinner with another woman felt like a betrayal.

Mostly the nights he had spent with her played like vids in his memories and dreams, vivid enough to inspire him to _take care of himself_ , though he had grown to hate himself for it, especially when he thought she was dead. But now here she was again, and he could have her any time he wanted- so why wasn't he?

        Sure, there was Vega; but he sensed that even if there were desires on either end, they hadn't been acted upon, and likely wouldn't have been even if he hadn't come back into the picture. He knew his perception of Vega as a threat was unfounded, based in his own insecurities. And as far as he could tell, though he would never know why, she had forgiven him for everything he had said and done to hurt her- on Horizon, in his letter, on Mars, on the Citadel.

Though her work with Cerberus still felt like a betrayal- not just to the Alliance, but to him personally- it was sinking in that it was not entirely within her control, and she did what she had to do to stop the Collectors. That's who she was- a remarkable woman who always did the best she could, despite obstacles and personal sacrifices. Knowing what he did now- and he realized that wasn't even the whole story- had their places been reversed, and he been the one hearing those awful things on Horizon, he would have fallen apart. He had been a royal jackass.

        And then they reconciled, and much to his surprise, she propositioned him. There had been a hint of teasing in her tone, sure, but he recognized that glimmer of desire in her eyes, even after all this time. Perhaps that was why he hesitated- the simple shock that not only would she want him back, but would be willing to jump right back in to the way things had been as if nothing had changed, when everything had. But he wanted her. He wanted to feel her skin against his. Her lips on his neck. Her hair in his face. He might not have been able to resist if the waiter hadn't brought their drinks so quickly.

        But instead they ate, and drank, and talked, about anything and everything but the war. They talked about Joker and EDI's blossoming relationship, the new apartment Anderson had given her. They talked about the 'good old days' on the Normandy SR-1, sans their relationship. They talked about the elcor production of Hamlet, which he had seen but she hadn't gotten the chance. Their sanity check seemed to go pretty well.

        But back on the ship that night, after retiring early, he lay awake and stared out at the seemingly endless expanse of stars. Their afternoon together played over and over in his mind. It was definitely pleasant, and had gone much better than he expected, but it felt... unfinished. Deciding it wasn't too late, and knowing that she was probably still awake, he climbed out of bed and threw on a shirt and the pants he had worn earlier. He made his way to the elevator and up to her cabin, changing his mind half a dozen times on his way there, and finally buzzed the intercom.

        Apparently just emerging from the shower, she opened the door a moment later, hair loosely wrapped up and clutching a towel around herself. Neither of them spoke, but she looked a little relieved that it was Kaidan and not someone else. He stared at her, drops of water clinging to where her shoulders met her neck, skin still pink from the heat. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Shepard.”

        “Come on in,” she said, moving aside. She gestured to the couch down the steps with her free hand. “Make yourself comfortable, I'll just be a moment.”

       She returned to the bathroom, door clicking closed, but not before he caught the sight of her naked silhouette as the towel fell to the floor out of the corner of his eye. He turned, taking his time to look around. He hadn't seen the cabin since the SR-2 had been dry-docked on Earth, and even then it was just a glance from the doorway as part of the tour. Seeing it now, up close and full of Shepard's personal belongings, was nice. Cerberus had certainly spared no expense making sure she was comfortable- the fish tank alone was bigger than a personal bunk on a regulation Alliance ship. He studied her collection of model ships, some of which he recognized (an Alliance cruiser, the Destiny Ascension) and others he didn't, until at last his eyes fell on the Normandy SR-1. Suddenly he was consumed by the horrors of that day- the day everything changed.

 

_The whole ship shook, then everything fell apart. Fire. Smoke. Screaming. His head was pounding- a hell of a time for a migraine. Before he realized what was happening he was helping people evacuate, getting as many to safety as he could. He tried the radio, getting an uncooperative pilot in the cockpit before searching for Shepard. Finally he found her- she was safe. She launched the distress beacon._

_“Will the Alliance get here in time?”_

_“I'm not doing this so they can find our frozen corpses. Get everyone to the escape shuttles.”_

_“Joker's still in the cockpit-he won't abandon ship.” Why did he tell her that? “I'm not leaving, either.”_

_“Get to the damn shuttles! I'll haul Joker's crippled ass out of here.”_

_No. No, this couldn't be happening. He had to stop her. There wasn't time, and she was in no condition to carry anyone through burning wreckage. But he couldn't move. “Commander...”_

_“Get the hell out of here!” They locked eyes, both knowing there were a million things they should be saying. Instead, he hesitated, then turned and ran, following her last order, knowing that his worst fears were being realized._

 

        The sound of the opening door snapped him back to the present day. Shepard stood before him, red hair damp and clinging to her forehead. She wore black sweatpants and a gray tank top, the N7 logo the only adornment on either. Her feet were bare, and smaller than he remembered.

        “Sorry I took so long,” she said, fingers ruffling the back of her wavy hair. “Can't seem to get my hair to fall quite the right way anymore.”

        “You look beautiful.” He smiled. “Sorry to drop in like this. I'll send you a message first next time.”

        “It's all right, Kaidan. It gets lonely up here sometimes. Technically these should be your quarters anyway, Major.”

        “The Normandy is yours, rank or no. Wouldn't feel right.”

        She blushed. “Well, what can I do for you, Kaidan?”

        He shuffled his feet. “I uh... I couldn't sleep, and... I, uh... I just wanted to see you.”

        “All right.” She smiled. “Would you like to sit down?”

        “Sure,” he said, realizing he hadn't moved much since he entered the room. “Got any beer?” He made his way toward the couch.

        “I have a bottle of whiskey. The Alliance didn't find it when they tore apart my ship, apparently,” she said, grinning.

        “Even better.”

        She retrieved the bottle and two glasses from her desk and joined him on the couch. “I'm glad we had lunch today,” she mused, bottle in hand. “It's nice to know where we stand, finally. It's been hard, since Mars, not knowing how you felt or what you wanted- I'm just glad that we're going to try to make it work.”

        “Me too, Gemma. I've missed you so much.”

        She poured the drinks, handing him his glass before raising her own. “To... trying again.”

        “To trying again.” He smiled, more to himself than to her, before tossing his back. He expected the familiar burn of cheap booze, but this was smooth and nice. He glanced at the bottle- it was old. “Is this... real Earth whiskey?”

        “Tennessee. From before the First Contact War. This whiskey is older than we are.”

        “How did you afford this?”

        “It was a gift from... a friend. Miranda Lawson. I did her a favor on Ilium that she didn't deserve, and she acquired it for me.” He was curious, but he knew the name, and he didn't press her for the details. Cerberus was her past, and he was her future.

        “I'm glad you hid it so well. Probably cost enough to feed the entire crew for a month.”

        “Another?” she asked, already filling her own glass.

        “Of course.” He extended the glass toward her, now uncomfortably aware of just how far away she had chosen to sit.

        They both downed them, then had a third in silence. He noticed her start to relax, rolling her shoulders back and cracking her neck, and edged his way toward her. She reached for the bottle again, but he pushed her hand away from it. “I've had enough for now.”

        “Just one more.”

        “No,” he said. He already felt buzzed, and he had a good amount of weight on her. “At least slow down, being hung over isn't going to do you any good tomorrow.”

        She scoffed. “Please. This is nothing.” Suddenly she bit her lip and sat back, looking ashamed. “Okay. Sorry.”

        “Shepard..?” He took her hand.

        “It's nothing, you're right, we should slow down.” She dodged his eyes like enemy fire.

        Unsure if it was the right move, he pressed her. “Talk to me.”

        “I, uh... I didn't deal with the whole thing last year as well as everyone seems to think.” She bit her lip. “It was a lot to process. I was drinking a lot more than I should have.”

        He squeezed her hand. “That's okay. Everyone needs to cut loose every now and again.”

        “Not like I was. There were too many nights I would black out, waking up on bathroom floors in clubs on Omega, Ilium, in the Wards... Garrus covered for me, pulled me through it. He's a good friend.”

        He paused, then nodded. “He is.” He glanced at his feet, now more than a little uncomfortable as he recalled just how jealous of Garrus he had been over the past few months. “Do you want to talk about it?”

        “No.” She shook her head.

        He folded his hands. “Okay.” 

        Much to his surprise, Shepard kissed him. He panicked momentarily, but he wasn’t about to fight it. She climbed into his lap, straddling him, her arms draping around his neck. Her skin felt warm, almost hot, unnaturally so, but he didn’t have the concentration to dwell on it. He placed his hands just above her hips and pressed his lips harder against hers. Almost instantly he was overcome with that feeling again, needing to touch her, kiss her, lick her, _fuck_ her. She was rough, insistent, her fingers gripping the hair on either side of his head, legs clamping tight around his torso. God, he wanted her. He hoped she was feeling it too, because his restraint was weaning by the second.

        “Kaidan...” she said between kisses, “I... want you. Now.”

        That was all it took, and he slammed her down on the coffee table in front of him, probably harder than he should have. Her arms fell to her sides and she pushed the mostly empty glasses and the bottle of whiskey off the table, pulling off her tank top. Kaidan heard a tear as he pulled his shirt off too, but didn't slow down to investigate, instead pulling off her sweatpants and her panties with them. She pulled down his pants just enough to get what they needed and then he was inside her, pounding hard and deep and fast. There were a chorus of loud moans and gasps in time with the rattling of the glass table, Shepard fleetingly worrying it might break until his hands found her breasts.

        “Ah! Yes!” she cried, head thrashing from side to side.

        Her nails raked down his back, sharp and painful, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Instinctively his biotics flared, his body so unused to this kind of touch. Instantly he tried to quell it, but then remembered how it had excited her in the past, and instead engulfed them both in a mass effect field, distorting the air around them, sending pleasing little shocks of dark energy through both their bodies. Her moans and sighs grew louder, and as the field faded, Kaidan felt her tightening around him. He leaned down and found her neck with his mouth, nibbling and sucking and kissing as she continued to writhe and thrash about. Sliding her more toward him, he grasped her hips, increasing to a pace he knew he couldn't sustain for long. He intended to make it count.

        Using every ounce of control he could muster without slowing down, he focused on amplifying his biotics through his hands, waiting until he felt the familiar prickling. He then sent the energy he had built up into her skin, letting it spread over the surface slowly until she glowed blue. He let it sit there a moment, letting her enjoy the 'tingle,' as she had once put it, and then sent a pulse. Shepard threw her head back, gasping, shaking, all but screaming as she climaxed. He let the field dissipate, but continued fucking her, his hands now returning to her breasts. Soon she couldn’t take it anymore, however, and gripped his shoulders, flipping him around.

        As soon as his back slammed onto the table, it shattered, and they fell the short distance to the ground.

        Kaidan’s back took the brunt of the damage, but some shards of glass punctured Shepard’s knees. He stood as quickly as he could, making sure that she wasn’t seriously injured, and rushed to grab medigel. She grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

        “I’m not done with you,” she said, quickly making sure there was no glass stuck in his back before dragging him to the bed.

        Though he knew he was bleeding, he wasn’t about to argue, the adrenaline now fueling his lust, and he lay back on the bed. His back stung where the sheets stuck to his cuts, but it was all but forgotten once he was inside Shepard again, the smell of sex and sweat and blood now overbearing.

        She seemed unfazed by the cuts on her knees as she ground her hips into him, eyes blazing with desire and passion. She gripped his wrists and raised his hands to her breasts, which he eagerly returned his attention to. Despite the pain it caused him, he lifted his head, sucking on her nipple. He tasted blood, though whether it had come from his hands or hers he couldn’t be sure. He felt his biotics flaring again, an instinctual reaction to the pain, and let himself surrender to it this time. He flipped her over, hard enough to hurt anyone else, and yanked her legs up over his shoulders, driving into her hard and fast. Dark energy crackled in the air around them. He was relentless, merciless. He couldn’t be anything but; it was as if the world would come crashing down if he stopped. Her fingers grasped at his back, but slipped in the sticky blood, unable to get a grip on him.

        When at last he came, screaming and grunting as he slowed to a stop, he felt _wrong_. He didn’t know what to say, or what to do, so he got off the bed and went to the desk for medigel.

        He returned to the bed, sitting on the edge. She slid forward and sat behind him, applying the medigel to his back as he put it on her knees. He knew he should say something, anything, but he couldn’t. Not that she was saying anything either; just rubbing on the cold anesthetic with uncharacteristic delicacy. When she finished, she pulled away from him, and he suddenly missed her touch. He couldn’t tell if she was angry or just… processing. Refusing to look at her, he surveyed the damage to the table a few feet away. A mess of broken glass, some smeared blood in the carpet and on the couch, and beside it all, a puddle of whiskey next to the unclosed bottle. He knew that whoever had to clean that up would have a lot of questions, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer them.

        “Are you okay?” she asked finally.

        He nodded. “The medigel is helping,” he said, stretching his shoulders.

        “I’m sorry, I should have… I should have let you put it on sooner. That must hurt.”

        “I’m all right.” He got up, crossing the short distance to where their clothes lay in a jumbled pile. He untangled his pants and pulled them on, tossing her shirt and sweatpants toward her as he sorted out his shirt and socks. Wincing, he pulled his shirt over his head, the pain returning to his back as the fabric touched the newly-formed scabs. He sat on the arm of the couch, pulling on his socks and boots, then finally glanced up at her. She was already dressed, sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes glued to the bloodstains on the sheets where he had been laying just moments before, her expression unreadable. People always ignorantly assumed biotics could read minds, but right now he wished they were right, because the silence was driving him mad. “Are… _you_ okay?”

       She didn't seem to hear him for a long moment, but then finally shook her head as if coming out of a daydream.

        “Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I’m good.” She looked over at the broken table, then up at him, but didn’t meet his eyes. “I should clean that up. Feel free to use the shower, if you want.”

        “No, no, I’ll help.” They both moved toward the table.

        “Kaidan, you’re covered in blood. Really, I can handle it,” she said dismissively.

        “I never said you couldn’t.” He grabbed her arm, and their eyes finally met. “But I think… we should talk about what just happened.”

        “We had sex and a table broke. And now there’s a mess to clean up. What’s there to discuss?” She pulled her arm away and turned, bending down to pick up the shards of glass.

        Kaidan sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll get in the shower. But I would like to talk when I get back, if that’s all right with you, _Commander_ ,” he relented, his tone bitter.

        “Aye, aye, Major,” she said, giving a half-assed salute, then continuing her work of cleaning up the shattered glass.

        He stormed out of the room, fists pounding against the wall of the shower as soon as he entered the bathroom. He angrily tore off his clothes and turned on the water, hoping it would wash away some of the shame and frustration he was feeling. He stood under the spray, letting the cold water fill his eyes and mouth, wishing he could take back the last hour and do it over again the right way. Kiss her, hold her, tell her he loved her and that he was sorry. Make love to her instead of that display of animal aggression that had wounded both his body and pride.

        He had known coming up here was a bad idea, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He had known that drinking was a bad idea, but he did it anyway. And as soon as she kissed him he knew where it was going, and he didn’t put a stop to it. That afternoon, he had thought everything might be fixable, that they might be able to make it work despite all that had happened, but now it had all gone to hell. All because he couldn’t keep his fucking hands off of her, because, despite all the control he worked so hard to keep over himself all the time, she was the one thing that broke all of that down.

        He grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed himself all over, as if removing the top layers of skin would make him feel better about what had just happened. The cold water was bracing, and in spite the fact that he had been slightly inebriated not long ago, his head felt clearer than it had all day. He finally turned off the water and dried himself off, pulling his pants and boots back on but deciding that his shirt was a lost cause, ripped and blood-soaked as it was.

        When he went back into the bedroom, he found Gemma stripping the sheets off the bed. The glass mess was all picked up, the now mostly-empty bottle of whiskey on the desk and the shot glasses upside down next to it. She hadn’t heard him come in, so he approached her and helped her with the sheets. “I’m sorry,” he said.

        “Me too.” She didn’t look at him. She took the sheets and balled them up, tossing them in the laundry chute. “How’s your back?”

        “Fine,” he lied. It was stinging, but it would be better soon.

        She sat on the bed. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

        He sat next to her, taking her hand. “Then let me talk.” He kissed her knuckles. “It meant a lot to me, that you wanted to work things out, despite everything that’s happened. I know it can’t be easy. A lot was said, and a lot of time has passed, and… well, maybe I didn’t deserve another chance, but I’m going to try to make the most of it. Tonight… tonight didn’t go the way I wanted it to. I don’t think that putting alcohol in the mix when emotions were running so high was the best idea, and I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry if I hurt you, I’m sorry that things got out of hand. I would like to try to make it up to you. Would you like to maybe go out to dinner tomorrow night?”

        She sighed. “I don’t know, Kaidan. Maybe… maybe this was a mistake.”

        “Please, Gemma. It’ll be great. We’ll get dressed up, go someplace nice, we’ll have a great time. No pressure. I’ll just buy you dinner, and we can do whatever you want after, maybe a show, or the casino. Anything you want. I really want to do this the right way.”

        She bit her lip. “All right. Yeah.”

        “Great!” He smiled, though perhaps half-heartedly. “I’ll get us a reservation.”

       “Kaidan?”

       “Yeah?”

       “I…” she shook her head. “Never mind.”

       He put his arm around her. Just as before, he was surprised by how _warm_ she was. “Okay.”

       “I should get some sleep.”

       “All right. I’ll… get going, then,” he said, then cleared his throat. She turned, looking up into his eyes. He put his hand tentatively on her face, his thumb lightly brushing her cheekbone. He inclined his head slowly toward hers. His heart thundered in his ears. A little closer. His lips were now dangerously close to hers. Surely she would have pulled away by now if she didn’t want this, too. He was still arguing with himself over what to do when she closed the distance between them, her lips soft and wet and slightly parted as they met his own. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to make his head spin, to make his hands shake and his fingers go numb. She was the first to pull away, of course, and he didn’t fight her, though he wanted to. He wished she would ask him to stay, but he wouldn’t count on his luck. “Goodnight, Gemma.”

       “Goodnight, Kaidan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

       He stood up and kissed the top of her head lightly. “Sweet dreams, Commander.” He turned and headed for the door, stealing glances at her over his shoulder. She didn’t watch him go, to his disappointment. She simply sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes on the floor, fingers woven into the hair above her ears.

       When she heard the door click closed, she glowered at the spot where her coffee table had been just hours earlier. Of course all it took was a couple of drinks for her to throw all her control out the airlock and turn back into the vicious, pathetic bitch she'd been only a year prior. She had practically assaulted Kaidan, throwing him through a table, and then refused to let him treat his wounds. She felt sick.

       Glancing at the nearly empty bottle on her desk, her expression darkened, eyes glassy and tired as the ache in her muscles protested staying upright any longer. Sighing, she collapsed on the stripped bed, knees pulled tight to her chest, and cried herself to sleep.


End file.
